


Picking up the pieces

by RiiThing



Category: Cookie Run (Video Game)
Genre: Also I write them as humans but everything else is the same, Choco Siblings, Dark and Cream ain't quite a couple yet, Gen, M/M, Sibling Reunion, but they're clearly getting there I can't lie to ya
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-27 22:54:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21126590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiiThing/pseuds/RiiThing
Summary: It's been a while since Dark Choco even thought about his siblings, but a poster of his brother is bringing back some mean reminders of ends he never got to tie. Maybe it's time to reach out.(...Also Whipped Cream is there.)





	Picking up the pieces

**Author's Note:**

> Zillion thanks to my dear friend BrendaThePeep for proofreading this for me!! Couldn't have done it without ya <3 <3

“Do you ever miss your family?” Dark Choco asked. The theatre was bare of others, so he had felt comfortable to climb up to the stage and sit next to the radio; it became difficult to focus once the reality had sank in.

Cream didn’t stop his dancing, but he did slow it down. Dark couldn’t quite figure out the emotion on his face.

“Sometimes,” Cream answered, and the tender smile returned.

Few light steps, a beautiful outstretched position that he called a _ “longing swan”- _sometimes he knew the ballet terminology worse than Dark Choco, but it didn’t make him any less graceful.

“I wish I knew whether the swans of the city ever carry my messages home.”

Dark looked back to the poster, studied its features and tried to figure out what he felt. It was so different from the images in his memories, when the boy in their swirls had been shy and hardly brave enough to stand in a spotlight alone. How long had it been?

**Ten years, Dark Choco.**

Dark frowned at the voice. It had been too powerful that evening; not even Whipped Cream’s presence silenced it.

**Ten long years, Dark Choco. Don’t think about it.**

And Dark knew he shouldn’t. He had a new life now, and the boy - no, a man - didn’t belong in it anymore. He deserved better. All of them deserved better.

Still, when Whipped Cream bowed closer and asked what was troubling him, he couldn’t hold it in.

“It’s my brother,” he laid the poster down, revealed the promotion for a concert in a nearby town. A violinist in green and white posed in front of it, proud and tall and so foreign it brought ache to Dark’s chest.

He sat in silence with his thoughts, let Cream settle down in front of him. He spoke when the pain became hard to bear.

“Made me think of my family.”

❀

Whipped Cream, as usual, had been an angel. He helped him track down the address of Mint Choco’s home theatre (New Appletawn, golden hour street, five hours away from his and Cream’s city - too close for Dark’s comfort) and bought him a notebook to practice his words on. He filled him with courage, filled him again when Dark gave up and remembered how stupid this was, how his brother had moved on and how Dark had caused so much destruction and _ heavens, _he was a murderer in his eyes, the man didn’t deserve this…

“You have such a beautiful way with words,” Cream whispered. Dark startled from his plight, had almost forgotten letting the other to glance over him and read whatever was going to his letter - had almost forgotten the weary hands that wrapped over his shoulders and made his heart beat twice as loud.

Dark hadn’t gotten much done yet, but his notebook was full of drabbles to copy to the paper. The current two pages were mostly just eloquent reintroductions.

“I wrote poems when I was younger,” Dark said, when he didn’t know how to mutter a thank you.

“Really?”

“Mhm. Pink liked the stranger ones.”

A gentle chuckle against his shoulder helped a smile rise to his face. Out of all things, poetry was a pleasant memory; the little stories he created with it for his youngest sister to sleep to, the verbal battles he had with his brother on who wrote the fondest words.

“Have you written anything lately? I’d love to hear some.”

Dark felt his cheeks heat up a bit on the thought. Well, he had thought of poems. Nothing that he should speak out loud to Cream, though.

“Maybe some time.”

Dark scratched multiple ideas, eventually asked for Cream’s input, was ready to give up again till Cream stepped in to ruffle his hair and say how he believed in him. The man refused to go to bed, even after the yawning begun, and eventually settled down to the pull out sofa and fell asleep there. Luckily, the letter was almost done.

**Throw it away.**

Well. If _ it _didn’t ruin this from him.

**It’s not worth it, Dark Choco. You’re a murderer.**

The sword - or whatever was left of it, a fragment of a spirit, he assumed - was relentless. It grew braver now when he was alone.

**What if it’s not real? You’re imagining things. That man is not your brother.**

Sometimes Dark believed the voice. It had been so long, after all; things he used to remember with the uttermost clearance were foggy now, hard to think of unless he had thought of them for a while. Maybe his memories of poetry with his siblings were false? Maybe the love they used to have for him was a fake one too? 

_ No. _

**He’ll hunt you down and kill you, once he knows you’re alive.**

Unfortunately to the sword, that was the least of Dark’s worries.

With whatever strength he had, he did his best to block the voice out and finish his letter. The sword gave out eventually and Dark had nothing to do than to read what he had written again and again, worry how much of it Mint would believe and how much Dark believed himself. He shouldn’t do this. He shouldn’t send this.

He left the letter in Whipped Cream’s room, far from his impulses and self-doubts, and made space for himself at the other end of the sofa. He laid awake for a long while, not much else to fill the silence than his own thoughts and the final desperate whisper of the sword.

**You’ll kill him.**

Dark didn’t have a good night after that.

By the time he managed to fall asleep, he was convinced the poster of his brother had never existed and all he did was selfish wishing - till Cream brought it up again, of course.

❀

It took a month for Mint to answer, but when he did, Dark didn’t know what to do. When he sent out his second letter and got another response, he was absolutely speechless; He didn’t think he’d get this far, less so expected the man to want to somewhat stay in touch. Hello, sorry, and an explanation was all he could do to tie the ends that had hung out open, but more? Didn’t Mint realize Dark wasn’t worth that?

Mint sounded cautious, careful on what to say and how to say it, yet there was compassion.

_ I knew it wasn’t you _ , was one of the sentences that had stuck out to Dark the most. _ I knew there were other forces in play. There were rumors about that eventually, and then I knew it for a fact. _

Dark didn’t believe that completely, but the least his brother deserved was his faith. And responses to his other questions.

It fell to a steady back-and-forth after that.

❀

One of the letters Dark got was red. It was decorated with stars and hearts and some sort of glitter, and it was hard to put it down.

“It’s from Pink,” Dark managed to say, after rereading it multiple times and staying in his silence longer than that. Cream halted his chatter with one of the swans.

“Really?”

Dark could only nod. Cream excused himself and made his way to him, under the shade of the pine trees.

“She lives in New Appletawn, too,” Dark continued. “She has a self-proclaimed degree in science and works as a guard in the city-”

His voice cracked and he had to shut his mouth, but the tears he noticed too late and could do nothing about them. Cream sat down to hold him close and didn’t mind in the slightest.

The forest was quiet around them, mind the song of the wind and the birds. It could be that the serenity of it twisted his mind, made him believe things that he selfishly wanted; made him believe in a letter with not a single cautious word in it, with nothing but excitement of a little girl - no, an adult woman - who’s finally hearing from her long lost brother and who speaks only of the kindest of memories.

“She was twelve when our home fell down,” something in him decided to say. So young, so long ago.

Cream hummed in response and another silence followed.

“I wonder what self-proclaimed degree in science means,” he muttered, after a while, and something in that make Dark laugh. Cream joined it briefly, and when it was over, Dark felt just a tad more relaxed.

“I have no idea.”

❀

The last letter he got from either of them was on a Friday morning. Whipped Cream, as he often did, tapped on Dark’s shoulder and stroked some hair away from his good eye to check if he was awake.

“Good morning,” he whispered, giving one of his brilliant smiles when Dark grunted a response.

“Guess who got a letter?”

Now that woke him up a bit more.

Cream went to make some breakfast and left the letter to Dark, who sat up on his bed-couch properly enough to read it. There were a lot of words from Mint, even more from Pink this time, but overall it was a tad shorter than before and Dark couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed - he was boring to talk to, it was bound to happen eventually - till his brain registered the number.

Dark got up, checked through Cream if it actually was what he thought it was, and soon they were sitting next to the phone writing down everything they thought Dark could say to Mint.

“I’m sure it all comes naturally when you get down to it,” Cream kept assuring. Still, Dark found out it hard to not overthink.

“These are some good starters, but don’t be afraid! You’ve talked to him before. It’ll be fine.”

Before the clock hit five (if Dark wanted an answer, he’d better call before the theatre world woke up), Cream reminded him how to use a phone and entered the number for him. Choco fiddled with the cable, listened to the assurances of Cream how everything would be just alright, and after doubting the cleverness of this idea for another eternity, he actually called.

While he waited, he tried to remember how Mint sounded. A bit like him, but lighter? He remembered he was a good singer, even more now, surely, when the years had passed. The music world suited him, on that regard. How different did Dark sound? Would Mint recognize him? Would he even care to stay in contact after realizing just how much had changed, just how much Dark simply wasn’t the dazzling prince he used to…

“Hello, Mint Choco on phone.”

Dark’s heart stopped. His breathing stopped, too. Everything, every function, every thought, ceased their existence and left a shell of hanging nothing.

Cream took his hand, gave it a squeeze and pushed the little notebook with the conversation starters closer to him. _ Remember to breathe, _it was their first scribble on it, and Dark did just that.

“Hello?”

“Hello. It’s Dark.”

A small pause, which after Mint’s tone lightened, words and questions that followed sounding distantly how they must have used to. The few tears (where had they come from?) Fell off eventually, but the tight feeling in his chest didn’t cease.

They talked a while, Cream had gotten up to move a bit around the apartment and Dark had gone through most of the ideas he had written down, when Mint was about to quit.

“I have to leave soon, but, Pink and I were wondering…” a small pause, which felt way longer in Dark’s anxious head than it most likely was.

“White is visiting next weekend, and maybe we could meet up? All four of us.”

And for the second time that day, Dark absolutely froze up.

✦** ✿ **✦

The first thing Dark realized, before the cab even properly halted, were the bright neon letters that shone even in the daylight. He had kinda hoped that the car would have driven astray and he wouldn’t make it to the meet-up in time, but the place was clearly correct and now he had even more reasons to be anxious.

Whipped Cream paid the driver, since Dark was still a broke and jobless thing who lived under someone else’s roof, and together they stepped outside. Cream stretched and turned to Dark.

“This is exciting! I wonder if they’re already inside?”

“Hm.”

“Are you ready?”

“Mh-m.”

He wasn’t.

They walked inside, to the world of blue darkness and colorful flashing lights, where people right after the lobby were hands deep in the fun and noise. Dark had never been in an arcade before, let alone in one as big as this, and he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do.

At least he still knew how to observe. He searched for familiar faces from the mist of the human mass, led by fear rather than anything else, wishing his memories of the others were still accurate.

“Alright,” Cream drew his attention. He stopped a bit to the side and Dark stopped with him, watched how he pulled out his walled and dug up some coins. “Here’s… Maybe for nine games, I think. You’ll come ask for more if you need some, right?”

Dark accepted the money and stared at it like the fool he was. He knew they went for the machines, but how? That was something else entirely.

Luckily Cream was aware of the problem. He spent few minutes teaching Dark the basics of gaming at the nearest available machine and going over what he knew about the arcade etiquette, which basically came down to being respectful and waiting for your turn.

When Dark’s practice game ended, Cream flashed him a smile.

“Did you like it?”

“I think. It’s a bit challenging.”

It was enough to make Cream beam. “You’ll get the hang of it! It’s strange to me too. Just one of those things that weren’t possible back home.”

_ Ah. _He didn’t want to think about home.

Cream talked about something else, Dark listened, but his gaze wandered over his shoulder and studied the people behind him. Everything was fine, till he locked eyes with someone familiar.

Mint Choco, the man in the poster and in his letters and in his calls, was living and breathing and _ looking at him _ far at the other end of their isle. The brother was squinting, yet very much staring, and the room felt way smaller than it needed to be.

When the shock wore down, Dark tore his stare away and watched his game instead.

“Oh? What’s wrong?” Cream asked, spun towards what Dark had seen but soon turned back none the wiser. Dark just shook his head.

“I saw Mint.”

Cream’s eyes sparkled, as he continued doing all the excitement for both of them.

“Really? That’s my cue to leave, then.”

Dark’s heart sunk on the thought, but he knew this was one of the things he had to do on his own. He couldn’t rely on the other forever.

“Remember, I’ll be around,” Cream assured, raised a hand to Dark’s arm to give a gentle pat. “Come find me and we can leave whenever you want. Good luck!”

And with that he was gone, leaving behind only the warmth of his touch and the comfort of his smile.

**He left you alone.**

Ah, and _ that. _

No matter how in pieces the sword was, that persistent fragment of its soul refused to loosen its grip. Dark would have given everything to have it gone just for today.

**Fun, isn’t it? To be your own man?**

_ I’m not on my own. His support is enough. _

**Oh, I’m sure that’s going to save you from ** ** _them._ **

_ Would you quiet down for a second? _

**I’m just saying you’re not ready.**

That was true. Dread took over and Dark looked back to the crowd, realized that Mint was no longer there where he had seen him. Maybe he had decided to back down from the whole thing. Dark was a coward and sure hoped he did.

Since everything was confusing and he had nowhere to go anymore, Dark decided to calm his nerves with the arcade machine. He popped in a coin and hopefully looked like a natural, or at least like someone who wasn’t completely frozen upon being left alone, while trying to not think how disappointed Cream would be in him if he knew how easily he was debating on giving up.

Then, the machine next to him lightened up.

They locked eyes again, Dark and Mint, who stood there almost as an exact copy of what he was in all of those posters. 

Mint gave a small smile.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

They played a game together, apparently you could do that, and Dark tried desperately to figure out what to say. It was too cramped in his skin, everything ached or was just too hot and his limbs were heavy, it was so hard to think about anything other than the panic and disbelief he felt. His brother, the man who he had grown up with such a long time ago, was there in the flesh, and it was painful.

The game was over too soon. Dark still had nothing to say when Mint turned to him.

“You look different,” said Mint, and it didn’t take long for the guilt to kick in. He did look different. In all the wrong ways.

“Yeah.”

Some awkward silence, till Mint regained his posture and cleared his throat.

“Well! Pink is here somewhere. I left her at the Dance War. Shall we take our leave?”

They left and ended up wandering somewhere to the other side of the arcade. Dark spotted Cream at one of the machines, tried with his nonexistent telepathic powers to make him turn around and exchange glances with him, but the man remained unaware of his distress and kept on having more fun than Dark did. Fair, he supposed.

The Dance War was a dancing game, played by two currently, and the one in lead was very loud about it.

“Aw yeah! Look at these moves! You can’t follow these moves, player 2!”

The girl did an energetic spin, and the moment her face flashed to Dark’s direction, everything froze again.

She was an adult now. Pink Choco had been too young to even hold a sword when their kingdom fell, but there she was, his little baby sister, prancing around in makeup and shiny clothes and throwing playful insults at her enemies. He barely recognized her.

“She currently holds the record on that game,” Mint leaned in to whisper, though it came out relatively loud taken all the noise he had to talk through.

“She’s beaten it three times, too. Maybe four. And that’s only one of the games she masters here.”

The game ended in Pink’s favor and she did a little celebration dance. Some cheered and clapped, Dark felt obliged to clap too, but the reality of everything was yet to make it easy on him.

“Anyone else wanna try their luck? Gotta warn ya, only _ I _know how to shuffle like Sparkling Champagne!”

Mint whistled over the excited chatter of the audience and gained Pink’s attention. She turned around, eyed both of them, and exploded into some very genuine joy, with which she jumped off her dancing game and made her way to her siblings.

“Darkie! ohmigosh!”

She threw herself around Dark and squeezed as hard as she could with him. Dark remained stiff, didn’t know what to do with his hands till his thought ran again and he understood to give a pat back. It was… Unreal. Like nothing had ever changed. She didn’t shun him, not now nor in her letters, he was still somehow the man she knew all those years ago.

**Weak comfort, Dark Choco. She doesn’t know the merits of what you’ve done.**

Dark dropped her from his hold. Pink, luckily, was already at the end of her hug and didn’t seem to mind it; not so luckily, her eyes were wet and sparkled with the brightest smile, and Dark’s chest ached more.

“We’re all together again! It’s been so long, gosh, I’m gonna explode!”

Dark couldn’t feel her excitement, but no way he would take it away from her.

White Choco arrived soon after, when Mint and Pink had done a game of some sort martial fighting and tied by pure accident. She found them on her own, shouted their names as she was doing that.

“Jeez! Guys! You’d think a quick trip to the museum and back would be easy, but guess what? It’s not,” White lamented, flung a dramatic arm around Mint who almost tripped of its power. Dark’s chest weighted more.

“No offense, dear siblings, but I can’t wait to get back to the Old World. At least horses don’t break down in the middle of a 20 minute journey.”

“None taken.”

Out of all of them, White had changed the least. She had more muscle on her and sported a bold haircut, but the clothes she wore were still very clearly from the Old World and her smirk was just as sly as always. She didn’t look at him, not till she finally decided to greet him.

“Dark,” she nodded. Out of all the memories that could flood back to him at that very moment, her fake smile was one of them; and just like that, he knew he hadn’t been forgiven. How foolish of him to think he would ever be.

They played games, that’s what the arcade was for after all, though Dark sat at the sides most of the time. His siblings joked and laughed and had fun, Dark tried to pretend some laughs to at least stay in the game, but it mostly felt awkward afterwards and seemed to give a small pause for the rest of the Chocos. He wasn’t what he had been ten years ago and they knew it.

He spotted Whipped Cream from time to time too, managed to gain a comforting smile or a wave when he looked back, maybe felt a bit more capable for some lone seconds; hard to say, since he was so quick to think that he couldn’t go through with this.

At some point, they stopped for slushies. Well, the girls did, Mint bought a coffee and Dark didn’t want to ask for money for a drink. They sat at some pretty dim corner of the food bar, filled Dark in on some more things he had missed.

“It’s been, almost a decade?” Pink wondered out loud, asked Mint for confirmation with her gaze and gained a nod in return. “Yeah! We’re basically New Appletawnians now. Caramel helped us here. He lives in Sun District, now, I think we should visit him again soon!”

She took a gulp of her slushie and complained about brain freeze before continuing. Dark, meanwhile, was happy to hear that their uncle was fine as well.

“White’s still living in the Old World, though, so she sucks with this arcade stuff even more than you do, Darkie.”

“How very delicate of you, Pink,” White rolled her eyes. “I’ll let you know that I’m _ also _a captain of our good ol’ friend Amaryllis' royal court, and a damn good one at that.”

She didn’t look at Dark when talking. Dark couldn’t tell if it was on purpose or if her subconscious did that, but it didn’t help with the feeling that their distance was unfixable.

“Took a while to get back in touch with Mint and Pink, but life happens! We got here eventually.”

“What about mom and father?”

Everyone fell silent on Dark’s question. None of them knew.

And then, it was noon. Something painful kept nagging Dark, the distance between him and his siblings kept widening, and the spirit of the sword refused to shut up.

**They haven’t forgiven you.**

It was especially loud during air hockey, out of all things, when White and Pink were on.

**They’re just acting nice. Nothing you can ever do could replace the life you took from them.**

Dark knew it was true. No point in letting it out, however, so he stayed silent and let Mint explain something about real ice hockey while they watched.

**They don’t want you here. Not now, when they’ve seen you’re unredeemable. **

Dark closed his eyes. Did the voice really have to do this now?

**Why even try? You want to give up so bad, Dark Choco.**

_ I’ve yet to do anything that speaks of bad intentions. I might not be forgiven, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be given a chance. _

**Ah, you’ve spent too much time with that lunatic of yours.**

_ Don’t speak of him like that. _

**He’s too fond with you. Fills your head with insatiable hopes. If only he’d been there when you took down a kingdom!**

_ What I did in the control of the sword doesn’t define me. I can have a good life again and I deserve the happiness that comes my way. _

**Word from word by your sweet little airhead. Cute. I’m sure it’ll be just as cute when he lays slain by your own hand - just as everyone else.**

_ Stop that. _

“What was it?”

Dark winced, saw Mint starting at him with a baffled expression. That one was out loud, then.

“We can talk about something else-”

“No, sorry, was thinking about something. Sorry.”

“Oh. Alright.”

Despite that, Mint didn’t continue. Dark felt something heavy and salty in his throat, wanted to retreat to the shadows and die there for all he cared.

Pink won the air hockey match, jumped up and down to rejoice as if she hadn’t been victorious in almost everything before that, and White moved to the side with a sigh.

“What did you expect? I’ve never played this before.”

“Oh, just take your loss like a woman! Who’s next? Darkie?”

Dark didn’t know what to do, till Mint nudged him forward and gave a reassuring smile.

“Oh, he’s _ dying _to try this out,” he spoke, just to seal Dark’s fate on the air hockey board.

“Don’t stress it. You’ve seen how we do it, it’s not that bad.”

Dark was not ready to take his word on it, but the expectations that were suddenly cast upon him did not let him back out. He took his place at the other end of the table and picked up the striker (he was pretty sure Pink had called it a striker) to stare at it - he snapped back to reality when Pink declared the game was about to start.

He didn’t fail hitting the puck. Sometimes, at least. Enough times to make the game flow and not feel like he didn’t have control over it; he could do quite a lot, actually, when his muscles did all the work and not the pictures on the screen. Hit, hit, miss, but then another hit. Simple, but not mind-numbing.

**You’ll destroy them, Dark Choco.**

He lost his first round, obviously, but he had a good time. Fun, even - so much that he was already putting in another coin when they debated who would go next. The rest took that as a sign to get rid of the “winner’s next” rule and push in Mint, who just seemed like a logical fit.

**This won't last.**

Dark hushed the voice with a swipe of a puck.

This time Dark won, though he assumed Mint had let him win. Not something he would have allowed way back then, but right now he took that as a sweet gesture; he couldn’t remember the last time he enjoyed something so simple so much.

“You’re a natural!” Mint congratulated. Pink cheered and came up with a little rhyme about Dark and bark and victory.

“You’re sure you’ve never played before?”

Those were just words, but Dark could appreciate them. Sometimes the thought did count.

When White was back up, it was no longer a game about chill and ease. Fortunately, she was just as bad with air hockey as Dark, so she wasn’t that much of a threat.

“Give it your all, brother of mine!” She declared, being the little dramatic thing she was. Dark chuckled - chuckled, out of all things! - and suddenly it was like they were kids again, without a hint of resentment that may or may not have been present.

White, his oldest baby sister; the one who didn’t listen to his poems or need his protection or watch him in awe at the side; She was a formidable warrior, but more than that, she used to be a friend. 

She gave a yell, and whatever she did next, destroyed every single one of those thoughts. She hit the puck from just the right angle with just the right amount of power, it hit the corner of the railing and the field and ricocheted straight to Dark’s face.

“Aw, shoot! Sorry, are you o-”

Suddenly the world was black and grim, Dark saw red, felt terrible power in his body that didn’t belong there - and with that power he threw his striker in an inhuman speed towards White and hit her face.

The moment was over the second the clouds of storm disappeared and he saw his sister crouched down, holding her cheek and hissing and surrounded by her siblings.

“Shit! What the fuck, dude!?”

Dark could do nothing but stand still, he didn’t understand what had happened, but he did understand what was in front of him. He stared at the sight, he and the dozen pairs of eyes that had woken to their tragedy, till his muscles worked again and the mind agreed to think.

“Excuse me,” was his choice of words, when nothing else came out.

He pushed himself through the sea of people, as far from his siblings as he could, found himself at the entrance to the men’s restroom and shoved himself in.

**You didn’t finish the job, Dark Choco. **

“Quiet!” He screamed at the voice. He did not need this right now.

**You didn’t kill them when you had the chance ten years ago. I told you, Dark Choco! It wouldn’t last!**

Dark wanted to hit something, _ anything _, but nothing but hard tiles surrounded him. Instead he put his focus on something else, like finding a window in that restroom, so he could duck out and call it a day.

No windows, though. Dark cursed.

**You can’t keep running, Dark Choco. You saw what happened. You need it.**

** _Shut it._ **

He could probably still get out and find some backroom door to quietly leave through. Would be less suspicious than escaping through a window.

**You say it’s the sword, but that was all you. You want this as bad as I do.**

Dark refused to listen. He went for the door, he could definitely still make it out before anyone went after him, but a loud voice at the other side stopped him in his tracks.

“Darkie? You’re there, right? I’m not sure if I can come in…”

No, no no no no. Not Pink.

**Kill her.**

Maybe it was that, or maybe it was because the door didn’t have a lock, but the next thing he knew he ran to the nearest sink and rip it off the wall. His hands fumed in red, his back hurt and he couldn’t remember much of the moment just few seconds after, but with whatever unnatural strength was left from that, he pushed the sink to the door and backed away to catch his breath.

“Darkie? I think we’re blocking the door.”

**Shut her mouth, Dark Choco.**

** _Shut your own mouth._ **

“Uh, I think the door’s stuck? Should I tell the guys to just use the unisex one?”

**She’s right there! Finish it!**

** _“Stop with that!”_ **

Another dark second, and he realized there was a mirror in front of him, cracked and bloody from his own fist. No, _ no _, he couldn’t start doing this again!

** _I never wanted this!_ **

**You’re in denial, Dark Choco! Look yourself in the eye and say you don’t want this!**

He shouldn’t, but he did. He raised his gaze and came eye to eye with himself, with his red flaming gaze and shadow-scared face of a killer, in the pieces of the mirror that he had destroyed.

**Of the lives you have destroyed. Don’t say you’re not to blame when it was done by your hand.**

He hurt his sister. Wanted to hurt his littlest one, too. Soon, it’d be Mint’s turn, then _ Cream’s, then who knew who else- _

**Everyone that crosses your path. Just as it used to.**

He hit another crack to his reflection.

He backed away, to some corner, to any floor, tried to fight it with the last piece of his strength. It was just the sword, Cream had said, it wasn’t him, he could still fight it!

**He’s not here, Dark Choco. Stop listening to the words of an airhead and listen to the voice of reason.**

But heavens, the sword was right. So, so very right.

He needed to hurt. He needed to kill. What was stopping him? Common sense? Whipped Cream? What did it matter, if everyone who didn’t shun him saw him as unredeemable either way? It felt **_wonderful_** to bring a kingdom down. If he could only remember more than bits.

_ No. _

**Yes. It’s so much easier this way.**

It was.

The darkness was everywhere. Nothing else than that, maybe mist and moon and forests far away, but that was all, and maybe it was good that way.

Something was in front of him. The reflection from the mirror - no, him, the sword - no, ** _him, _ **It looked at Dark and finally had a body to speak with.

**“You belong in the darkness,” **it said. It would have smiled, Dark knew, but its face refused to twist into emotion.

**“This was your home for seven long years. It’s where you belong.”**

“It’s where I belong.”

A moment of nothing.

**“Then why are you trembling?”**

He wasn’t. Or was he? Was the darkness right?

**“You’ve already done it all! Why are you resisting?”**

He didn’t think he was resisting. Why would he, if he was ready to accept this?

**“DON’T LISTEN TO HIM!”**

And then he heard it, realized, maybe, the voice in the wind that spoke no words he could understand. Yet it was comforting, brought burning to his eyes, made him realize he was in fact trembling and that the dark misty forest was less of a forest and more mere shadows. The bathroom lights came in, even if it was just that much.

The face of the sword or his inner demons was no longer there, only something light and bright shone in its place. Dark felt like it wanted answers.

** _“He wants them dead.”_ **

His voice didn’t sound right. Rough and cold and not quite his own.

“The sword is gone, Dark. It has no control over you.”

The voice in the wind, in the figure made out of light, it was clear now. Calm and steady and not something Dark deserved.

** _“He’s upset I didn’t kill them sooner. It yearns for victims and knows I’m happy to provide.”_ **

“You don’t, Dark. It cannot control you.”

He had no idea what he was talking about. Only Dark did.

“** _I belong to darkness and darkness only. Your words can’t soothe me and I deserve no love.”_ **

“That’s not true. Can you give me your hands?”

His hands. They had found his face, the nails dug into his skin and smelled like blood. The light, the angel, brought his open hands up half-way through and waited, and their memories and rehearsals and everything about other moments like this poked their comforting heads through the darkness. The hands left his scalp, he found he could do it and the sword could do nothing, he brought them down to the light and the struggle and the weight he had held on his shoulders weakened.

He couldn’t stop the shaking, though. Maybe he didn’t need to.

“It has no control over you. The sword is destroyed. You’re with me, and you won’t hurt anyone.”

He felt gentle strokes on his palms.

“What the sword did doesn’t define you. It was not your fault.”

** _“It was.”_ **

“It wasn’t.”

The mist begun fading out, the darkness was no longer everything, he was back in the restroom with lights that were too bright, with the floor that hurt to sit on. Whipped Cream smiled in front of him, his eyes red and wet of few scattered tears. Oh, _ heavens. _

Dark took his hands from Cream’s, held them for himself and didn’t know what to do with them; then a wave of something desperate took him over, he raised them back up and trembled as if it was all he could do, till Cream came forward and responded to the attempt of a hug.

When he shivered there, head resting on his dearest friend’s shoulder and gaze blank and undeciding, he realized they weren’t alone. Just a bit behind them were his siblings, worried and alert each one of them, the door closed at the side but the sink pushed away enough.

“That’s… freaky,” said White, and Dark’s stomach twisted as he saw the scar on her cheek. The words themselves were deserved.

Mint gave a judgmental elbow to his sister’s side, then took a careful step forward.

“Is he… Out if it?” He asked, and this time it hurt a bit, to hear how cautious he was. So long were the days when Dark had been the support and safety his brother needed.

Cream shifted Dark a bit forward, enough to look at him in the face.

“Are you better?”

“Mh.”

The moment the message had been moved forward, Pink hurried to Dark’s side and wrapped him into a tight embrace. As she rambled about how brave he was for fighting “whatever it was” and telling how White was fine, how she didn’t hold any grudges when seeing what was going on (White didn’t reject it, but Dark wasn’t convinced), someone walked into the room and awkwardly walked back out. The gang watched after them and came to the silent conclusion that it was time to move.

Mint paid for the sink and the broken mirror (Cream wanted to help, but Mint refused - White wanted to sneak out while they still could, which Mint refused too), and all of them decided to call it a day. They gathered near some flowers at the cab station to talk, just a walk away from the arcade. Apparently Pink had parked her new cool car there, which was most likely the only cherry red mobile in sight.

Eventually, Dark dropped off the smalltalk. He did that a lot, but with them… That felt like a decision. He had to make that eventually.

A pair of tender hands tugged on his sleeve and Dark let Cream lock arms with him, radiate his courage to what had slipped into a clearly tired body. He didn’t need to look down to get his message.

Someone coughed and the chatter quieted down.

“So… That was a bit scary.”

No one needed to ask what Mint was talking about to understand it. Dark’s heart sank a tad more, but somehow… He couldn’t bring himself to mind.

“I mean, just… Should we be worried? If the curse is still active?”

“What?”

That one came from Pink. She perked up and faced Mint as if the words had been directed at her, and Mint paused accordingly. He kept talking, when Pink didn’t.

“I’m just thinking. Should we have some precautions? If I had known…”

“Know what? They said it was fine! You saw them handle it!”

“I know, I just…”

It wasn’t all for nothing. The end result was a fearful brother, a disillusioned sister, and a sibling who’s silence spoke louder than words, but it was all out now. The ends Dark wanted tie. He hadn’t felt a peaceful defeat in a while.

“I can’t believe you! After all this time, when we finally have him back-!”

“Would you please let me speak for a second?”

Dark breathed out.

“Siblings.”

No, that was too formal.

“Guys.”

Didn’t sound any better from his mouth, but everyone fell silent and that was all he needed. Some things had to be done.

“I’m relieved to see you all alive. The letters and calls I’ve got from you have meant the world to me, and… I’ve been lucky. To get to share a few moments more with you.”

Cream tensed up next to him. He could feel his eyes on him, just like everyone else’s.

“Maybe this is what we needed. I’m not sure. I wish you all the very best with your lives, and… Thank you.”

He began to turn away, but the loud outburst of others nailed him to his place.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Dark, hold on, I didn’t mean to…”

“Dark? Are you sure?”

“Okay, edgelord, hold your horses.”

White stepped forward. She looked terribly serious, the type Dark suddenly remembered seeing on her plenty of times all those years ago.

“You know, when I agreed on this, I was expecting the worst. But we talked with Mint and Pink before…” She took a breath, as if whatever she wanted to say took some serious strength. “And this is a progress. It’s been a mess, Dark. We shouldn’t expect things to be fixed in a day.”

“Yeah!” Pink exclaimed. Dark was taken back, body didn’t move, the emotions he wanted to give up on bubbled back up.

“I don’t care if you don’t laugh at all of my jokes anymore or if there’s some sword spirit in you that wants to wreck stuff, or, I just… We finally found you! I know things ain’t the same, but we can at least have this, right?”

Dark didn’t know what to say. They didn’t mean that. They didn’t know what they were talking about. They saw his true colors, saw that fraction of the curse in action, and they still didn’t know what they were talking about.

“White is in town for another week,” said Mint, when Dark had done nothing for long enough. There was a little notebook in his hands, now.

“Maybe we should have our next meeting somewhere else than an arcade… There’s lots of room in my apartment, would a dinner work? Tomorrow, if you’re around?”

Dark couldn’t think, so he looked down to Cream for an answer. The laugh that followed the man was pleasant, but not what he intended to get out of him. 

“Up to you! It’s your family!” He exclaimed, as if it was the most obvious thing. It probably was, but still. 

“Though, I would suggest you on taking up on that offer.” 

“Your guardian is welcome too,” Mint nodded towards Cream, who tensed a bit more on that. “I think you’ve done quite a lot for us today.” 

“Ah, I’m not his guardian. Just, uhh...” 

“Oh, sorry, boyfriend?” 

Dark could swear he saw blush on Cream’s face, but maybe he shouldn’t overthink it and not let his heart beat harder on the thought. He had other problems to worry about.

“Oh, no-” Cream let out a nervous laugh- “I’m just a friend. I’d be happy to join, though, if Dark is okay with that.” 

“Please do,” came Dark’s way too eager answer. It was his turn to heat up a bit when Cream smiled at him with that way too precious smile of his. 

“Splendid! That’s settled, then,” Mint decided, put his little notebook back to his jacket.

“Guess this is a good time to properly introduce myself, since we are going to meet again. I’m Mint Choco.”

“Oh! I’m Whipped Cream. Friends Call me Cream.”

“Hi Cream! I’m Pink!”

Dark still had a hard time to believe it all.

They decided on the time, Pink gave a hug to both Dark and Cream and while Mint suggested they’d stay at his place (Dark politely refused; he needed his peace and they already had a place), and so they parted ways. Cream tapped a free-looking cab and got them a ride to their hotel.

“I’m so proud you got through with that, Dark!” Cream exclaimed as they were comfortably tucked to the backseat of a moving car.

“Pink was very delightful. How do you feel?”

Dark thought about it. How did he feel? He wasn’t sure. Terrified, definitely, He couldn’t stop thinking of what had happened with the striker. He could deal with the sword’s energy within him, but to think that it could _ still _cause hurt… It was almost unbearable.

But something in him, something very selfish no doubt, told him that he didn’t need to turn away. Not after what they said. The same had happened with Cream, and here he was, easily the most important person in his life right now; someone who even the voice of the sword left alone.

“Nervous,” he said, eventually. Cream had scooted closer to play with whatever bracelets there were on Dark’s hand this time, he sometimes did that and Dark absolutely did not mind, and there he did not need to raise his gaze to smile at the answer.

“That’s a good thing,” he said. Often did. There’s no need to be nervous, but nervousness is not a bad feeling.

“You did wonderfully today. I’m sure tomorrow will be just fine.”

Dark had no idea what to expect of the dinner, but maybe that was alright. He wasn’t about to give up now.

**Author's Note:**

> It may or may have not taken me almost two months to put this out here


End file.
